


Just Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider Scout

by adenium (peccolia)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Rating for Language, This is pretty much crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 09:31:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8200162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peccolia/pseuds/adenium
Summary: It’s a beautiful day outside.
Birds are singing, flowers are blooming, and...
All hell has broken loose in suburbia.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate summary: "Spider Scout hell breaks loose in suburbia when Muffet and her troupe of spiders make house calls to sell more spider treats, seek donations and gather a steady customer base once they're settled on the surface.
> 
> You’re just along for the ride."
> 
> this took forever to write because I kept forgetting about it, but things work out because this can be considered an early halloween one-shot special. 
> 
> enjoy and thanks for reading!

Suburbia in Ebott City is peaceful.

Filled with the lull of upper middle-class dads’ hired hands mowing their lawns in iron-pressed khaki shorts and ankle socks, children riding their bicycles and ringing their bells, and soccer moms jogging down the streets.

Little do they know trouble is brewing on their doorstep—quite literally.

“Uh…Muffet, you _sure_ this is a good idea?” You’re just the driver. Your opinion doesn’t really matter ‘cause that kid marches to the beat of her own spider-shaped drum and, hey, you’re getting free donuts and cider outta this deal, so you don’t try too hard to complain.

And, really, you should have seen it coming when she took up a vested interest in the local Sunshine Scouts division and started custom-ordering and embroidering dozens of tiny, spider-sized sashes and purple hats for her…uh, troupe.

But you’re just the cab fare. Or overseer. Whatever fancy title you want to give yourself since you’re only a babysitter making a measly thirty bucks a day for looking after your neighbor’s teenager. It’s more a favor, than anything. And it’s one wild ride, this world of monsters.

“Ohoho, Dearie, do you doubt me? This is for the financial security of my growing business. Of course I’m confident!”

You look into the rear-view mirror at the several spiders crowded on the backseat of your car around Muffet, who sits primly in the center, beaming, blinking all eight of her eyes consecutively. Not really a face you can argue with.

Well, there’s no stopping it now. The car comes to a rolling stop at the curb beside one of the upscale houses and you sigh as you shift it into park. “Fine. Have at it.”

The back door opens with a creak and spiders pour out onto the lawn of some unlucky individual (enough of them to scare off the lawn mower, who you’re pretty sure crosses himself and yells out an alarming prayer before getting the hell out of dodge and you don’t blame him…but the lawnmower is still running and just barely misses hitting your fender as it rolls by into the street and promptly falls over on gravel).

Muffet brushes off her troupe uniform with a dainty hand and stands tall, brimming with determination, as she marches up the walkway to her first victim—ah, potential buyer’s front door with her spider scouts trailing along at her side.

Yep. That’s one scene straight from hell.

It’s probably a better idea to follow along and stand at her back instead of just watching from the car window…just in case. So you do, and hang back in the sea of spiders as a trio of the little things skitter up the doorframe and ring the bell. Yikes.

A smiling maid—nanny? Hell if you know how these upper-class people work. These houses are more expensive than your tuition—immediately answers the call and starts to speak before she chokes on her words and her smile turns into something bitter, like she set eyes on an army of spiders. Oh wait, she did. It’s pretty much a blanket of black from Muffet to the sidewalk.

Needless to say, she slams the door shut. You’re pretty sure you hear a scream.

But before anyone’s hopes can fall, the door swings open on its hinges again to reveal the well-put-together face of a bright and shiny blonde suburban mom in a nice, pink sun dress. But that smile is definitely forced. Still, gotta give her credit for keeping up appearances in the face of an eight-legged apocalypse.

Muffet clears her throat cutely and starts speaking before the mom can get a word in. “Good day, Madame. My name is Muffet and I am the leader of Ebott City’s local division of Spider Scouts. My troupe and I are here today to acquaint ourselves with the community and seek patronage. Here is our annual catalogue of available spider treats!” She produces a thick, shiny booklet from somewhere behind her purple velvet sash and presents it to the woman with a flourish.

Good god. Just how prepared was she…?

“Of course, as a small, ever-growing organization, we are always open to donations.”

The suburban mom accepts the booklet with shaking hands, but doesn’t bother flipping through the pages. Her eyes dart to you, apparently the only other sane human being within eyeshot, but you only shrug. “Um…I’m sorry. Who did you say you were, again?”

“Ebott City’s local division of Spider Scouts. The pioneers of only the finest in spider-based culinary treats—and the best at aiding the community, one leg at a time.”

Well, it’s not the worst slogan you’ve ever heard. But that mom looks like she’s about to bust a few blood vessels.

The neighborhood’s gone eerily quiet. You look around and realize no one’s outside anymore. Bicycles lay abandoned on the streets, wheels still spinning, not a soul in sight. Oh, but you can see nosy eyes peeking out from behind window blinds and curtains. Looks like this unfortunate woman is the martyr of the neighborhood. Everyone else is just waiting to see how this horror movie pans out.

“Please take a look at our catalogue, dear Madame.”

“Y-yes…alright. I suppose I will.” Her trembling hands split open the booklet and the stiff smile on her face morphs into a grimace of abject horror as her skin pales. Even her knees are shaking. But you have to give her brownie points for trying. “Um—um, may I ask just what types of ingredients are in these…these…spider donuts?”

Muffet, as cool and in control as ever, leans in closer to the woman (who nearly starts crying) and pokes her hand over the book, pointing to some text on the pages. “As explained here, it’s all perfectly organic. And self-explanatory.” A grin spreads across her face as all five eyes narrow in excitement. “Of course, aside from our tender love and care that goes into the making, there is a bit of flour, sugar, and of course—the most important ingredient— _spiders._ ”

The woman’s tolerance meter crashes down to zero as her face stills and she drops to the floor in a dead faint.

Shit. You hope there won’t be any legal repercussions for that.

“Well. Thank you for your time, Madame. Please keep the catalogue and contact us with your order.” With a flippant, cheerful shrug, Muffet adjusts her beret and turns on her heel and marches back to the street, wave of spider scouts in tow.

She sets her hands on her hips once she reaches you, and looks up with a smile. “I think that went rather well, dearie, don’t you?”

“I won’t disagree with you, I guess.” No matter what you say, you’re pretty sure she’d ignore you anyway.

“Oh? Where should we go next? It looks like everyone’s retired for lunch. Such a shame. Spider cider would be such a lovely afternoon refreshment.”

“We can come back later.” Or never.

“Nonsense. Once they see my pet, they will come running.”

“Pet…? Muffet, you brought your pet?”

“Of course. I simply had to bring the mascot along. Who do you think I am, dearie?” As she speaks she snaps her fingers.

The trunk of your car creaks open and something large and furry and horrendous unfolds all eight of its legs and cupcake casing before leaping out of the compartment and stomping down the street, carefree among screams of terror.

You’re definitely getting restraining orders for this.


End file.
